


Not Waving But Drowning

by sherlockssexysocks



Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Anger, Brooklyn Blues, Cuddling, Fear, First Times, Fluff, Forbidden Love, Kisses, M/M, Period-Typical Homophobia, Redemption, Religion, Romance, Soldiers, The Winter Soldier - Freeform, War, bucky pov, faith - Freeform, mentions of God - Freeform, sexuality struggles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-13
Updated: 2014-11-21
Packaged: 2018-02-25 07:00:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,237
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2612579
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sherlockssexysocks/pseuds/sherlockssexysocks
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bucky stopped going to Church when he turned eighteen, refused to sit in the house of God and rub his sins and filth in His face. He stopped praying a few short months after that, too ashamed and embarrassed to say the words when he knew God knew where his mouth had been.</p><p>He isn’t shipped out 24 hours before the prayers start falling out of his mouth; begging and pleading to bring him home safely.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Give Me Something To Believe In

They’re seventeen and eighteen respectively the first time it happens and they’re no fools either; they know that what they want is a sin and they know what happens if they get caught. 

Bucky has seen the men they drag down to the docks. His seen their teeth get kicked in, seen the way they cry and plead as they choke on the blood pouring from their throbbing gums. The first time he saw it, he shouted at the men, telling them to stop. He had only been fourteen then, hadn’t understood what was happening. He had run home and told his ma exactly what he had seen. She hadn’t seemed all that shocked, had muttered quietly about men who do _bad things to each other, Jimmy, ungodly things_ and told him to stay away from the docks after dark. 

Bucky had told Steve, had asked him what his mother meant by _ungodly_. Steve had simply shrugged his bony shoulders in confusion but he seemed upset. They didn’t talk about it much after that and Bucky did as he was told and stayed away from the docks once his few hours after school were done.

(It was only when he turned sixteen and asked his Ma what a ‘fairy’ was that he realized there was a word for people like him.)

They know now that there is a lot more than one word for people like them and most of them aren’t anywhere near as polite as ‘fairy’. 

(Bucky has heard the words the others down by the docks use and they make his stomach turn.)

Kissing makes it better though. Pressing themselves against each other as close as they can and stealing silent, desperate kisses beneath the duvet of Bucky’s bed make them feel as if everyone else is wrong.

(Even though Bucky _knows_ it’s them. He knows that they shouldn’t want to do this.)

He can’t stop himself, not when Steve is pinned beneath him, making soft, sucking sounds as their lips slide against one another easily. He manages to pull away for a brief moment to grin down at his friend, unable to tear his gaze away from his swollen, spit-slick lips. 

“Prettier than a dame.” He whispers, nuzzling his nose against Steve’s heated cheek.

Steve makes a grumbling sound and pushes at Bucky’s chest harmlessly. Bucky just laughs and pulls their mouths together again, unable to stop the groaning sound he makes when Steve wraps his legs around his hips and pushes their crotches together eagerly.

(And he could die like this, Bucky decides. This could be it and he would be so damn _happy_.)

The room is soon filled with the sounds of their stifled moans as they grind against each other hungrily and Steve is getting breathless, his hips twitching in a way that is less graceful and more forceful. Bucky kisses him in a bid to try and stifle the delicious sounds slipping out from between his pink lips but they only end up sharing moans and the same hot air escaping from their mouths. They are too far gone, buried deep beneath the duvet to hear the light knock on the door. The creak of the handle escapes their notice as Steve lets out a particularly deep grunt but the low moan of the unoiled hinges alert them soon enough and Bucky throws himself out of the bed, just as Rebecca steps inside, her dark hair braided and her eyes wide and curious.

“What’s wrong, ‘Becca?” Bucky demands.

He’s still hard but he’s hoping his skivvies hide the worst of it. Steve is pale-faced and silent, his delicate pigeon-chest heaving as he watches Bucky’s sister nervously. She’s thirteen and smarter than a whip, her dark eyes shining with a knowing look as she pieces the puzzle together.

“Mrs Turner said Mama left us casserole in her fridge next door if we get hungry. Asked if you and Stevie wanted a potato.” 

Her voice is slow and thoughtful and Bucky can practically see the gears in her head whirring. Bucky doesn’t dare look at Steve and so he gives a stiff nod.

“Yeah. You go ahead and we’ll follow you over.”

Bucky knows she wants to ask more questions; she has more curiosity than sense, but she sucks in her bottom lip pensively before backing out of the room, her brows furrowed with a concentration she usually only reserves for her sums. Bucky doesn’t say anything when he turns back around and begins to redress himself. Steve is still paralysed, his blue eyes wide and staring as he watches Bucky cover himself up.

“Buck…” Steve finally exhales, collapsing onto the pillows behind him.

“Get dressed.” He says softly. “I can hear your stomach rumblin’ from here.”

(Bucky’s own stomach is churning in the worst way. He makes himself sick. They both do.)

 

.

 

It’s three months later when Rebecca tells him she knows.

“Know what?” Bucky challenges, his blue eyes flashing dangerously.

And she just gives him a gentle, knowing smile before patting him on the shoulder and walking away, muttering something about how she just wants them to be safe.

 

.

 

Bucky only wants them to be safe as well so they decide not to share a bed in each other’s houses anymore.

“It’s too risky.” Steve agrees, his lips soft and wet as they move against Bucky’s neck. 

They have rare moments where they get the chance to be alone, mostly in Steve’s apartment. Sarah’s always working the late shift and so that leaves them plenty of time to fool around and explore each other’s mouths.

(And bodies but they never go _too_ far, never past what they have both decided is acceptable, redeemable even.)

Bucky thinks that they’re going to be okay. From his experience down on the docks, only the men that actually do each other like they’d do a dame are the ones that get beat down. They’ve never done that; they’re both too scared. 

(They _want_ to. He can see it in Steve’s eyes, the slightly pleading look he gives him every time he straddles him.)

But they don’t. That would be going past the point of no return. So, they go on dates with sweet broads and sweeter lips and they dance until their feet hurt but then they stumble home together, back to Steve’s empty apartment and they kiss each other until their aching for something they know they can’t have.

It goes on like that until it suddenly can’t anymore because Sarah gets sick. She gets real sick and next thing, Bucky is standing next to his Ma and ‘Becca at her funeral and all he can think of is _Steve_ and he can see him, through the crowd, standing by the coffin, all scared and lonely and confused.

(It takes all of his strength not to run up to him there and then and take him in his arms.)

“Get Steven and ask him to stay with us.” His ma tells him once the coffin is lowered and the crowd has dispersed. 

Bucky hugs her tightly and does as he is told. He crosses the well-kept paths of the graveyard and stops just a few inches from Steve, aware of the fact that his mother and sister are still within sight.

“Hey, pal.” He breathes, one arm wrapping its way around his narrow shoulders.

Steve turns his head and gives him a watery smile.

“Hey.” He croaks and Bucky recognises the pinched look around his eyes, the way he sniffs three times in quick succession and so he closes his other arm around him and pulls him tight, breathing deeply as he lets the tears fall. 

He forgets to tell Steve that his ma invited him over and follows him home in silence, one arm slung around his shoulders, keeping him close. They don’t speak, not until they make it upstairs into Steve’s apartment and then it’s a slew of desperate pleading and wanting and before either of them realize what is happening, Steve is pressed against the wall with his legs wrapped around Bucky’s waist, making soft begging sounds in the back of his throat as Bucky grinds his body up against his. 

“I love you.” Steve whispers into his mouth and Bucky swallows his words hungrily, chasing them with his tongue.

He kisses Steve until they are both gasping for air, their foreheads pressed against one another, watching each other breathlessly, their eyes dancing.

“I love you more.” Bucky finally teases with a small smirk and the laugh that escapes Steve is the most beautiful sound.

And they’re lost in each other and it’s too late for them when the front door opens and Winifred Barnes neat heels come to a halting stop. It is like ice water being poured down Bucky’s back. He freezes at the sound of the footsteps and he can see the reflection of his mother in Steve’s rounded, terrified eyes.

(And Bucky never realized just how _painful_ it was to feel his heart break.)

He detangles himself from Steve and spins around, his lips swollen and red, his hair mussed and untidy, falling out of his oiled style and across his face.

“M-ma.” He croaks, tucking his shirt back into his trousers properly and she waits long enough for Bucky to realize that he has nothing to say.

(He is speechless; there are no words.)

Winifred’s face is hard and pale but her eyes are pink and watery and when Bucky takes a step forward, she takes a step back, giving a slight, stilted nod.

“I…I figured you would be here so...” She pauses, her eyes fluttering shut as she tries to catch her shaking breath. “So, I’ve brought over some stew and Mrs Girgoni gave me some fresh bread for you Steven and-”

“Mrs Barnes, we-” Steve starts, tears welling in his own eyes as he comes to stand by Bucky’s side.

(And Bucky wants to push him away, wants to run to his mother’s arms and make her keep him there.)

“And Jimmy will bring the dish home tomorrow. You’re more than welcome to stay with us, Steven but you might prefer to stay here.”

It doesn’t sound like an invitation but Steve thanks her anyway, his throat working convulsively as he tries to keep the tears at bay. Winifred nods once again before placing the stew dish and bread on the table, her brows knotted in a way that Bucky’s knows is her holding back her own tears. He takes another step forward and tries to speak but no sound will come out. She doesn’t wait this time. She simply turns on her heel and marches out of the room with purpose, her head held high and her back straight. Bucky stares after her wordlessly and wills the knot in his chest to release itself enough for him to _breathe_.

“Buck…” Steve mutters, coming forward and rubbing the small of his back with his hand.

“Don’t.”

(So he doesn’t.)

 

.

 

Winifred never mentions what she walked in on. Not even when Bucky tries to bring it up, tries to tell her that he’s _sorry_. She doesn’t cry the night before he’s shipped out, she gives him a stiff hug and pushes him away much sooner than he would have liked.

“I’ll be back, Ma.” He promises, giving her the smile he knows melts her heart.

(And he can see her thawing out, her forehead relaxing and the strong set of her shoulders falling as she gives him the ghost of a smile.)

“If not for me, then come back for him.” She says softly and Bucky doesn’t need to ask who.

His jaw sets and he nods.

“I will.” He swears. “B-but if I don’t…”

“I’ll keep an eye on him; find him a good girl who’ll mind him.” She says kindly.

(Bucky’s eyes fill with tears at this because he’s a bad man, an ungodly man and he doesn’t deserve her love.)

 

.

 

Bucky stopped going to Church when he turned eighteen, refused to sit in the house of God and rub his sins and filth in his face. He stopped praying a few short months after that, too ashamed and embarrassed to say the words when he knew God knew where his mouth had been.

He isn’t shipped out 24 hours before the prayers start falling out of his mouth; begging and pleading to bring him home safely.

( _I promise I will give him up, I swear to you O Father, that I’ll find a nice girl and raise a good family in Your name if You bring me back alive, I swear this to you, O Lord…_ ).

 

.

 

People like him and Steve are not welcome in the Army. Bucky realizes that very quickly, especially from the way the other men carry on and behave. It is not tolerated under any circumstances and Bucky isn’t there two weeks before they ship away a young boy from the Midwest who supposedly tried another Private in the shower rooms. At first, Bucky doesn’t believe that anyone could be that naïve, but then the whispers start that the Private in question reciprocated and he too was shipped away in the space of a few days. 

“Make you sick to your stomach to think that _that’s_ the kind of shit among us, doesn’t it?” Dum Dum mutters around his spoon one morning.

Bucky sips his coffee mildly and says nothing.

(His own stomach is sick with shame.)

“I mean, how are we supposed to trust one of them? They could jump us at any minute.”

Bucky catches Falsworth’s eye. The Englishman simply rolls his eyes and pats Dum Dum on the hand patronisingly.

“I’m absolutely positive you would be one of the very few who would make it out unscathed if they decided to attack.” He mocks, his bright eyes sparkling.

Bucky snorts into his coffee as Dum Dum looks on, outraged.

“Falsworth, I can guarantee that I would be one of the _first_ they would try. I’m warm, lovable-”

“And not homophobic in the slightest! Jeez, you’re right, Dum Dum; you’re a real catch!” Bucky drawls sarcastically.

The table around them cracks up and Dum Dum fixes Bucky with an amused look.

“You know what, Barnes? I bet they’d take you first. Pretty face like yours? Lips and eyes like a dame? Why, I’d have a go of you myself with enough alcohol in me.”

And it’s a _joke_ and people are laughing but there’s a cold feeling washing through Bucky, as if they can see who and what he really is. The panicked look on his face must have been obvious, however, because Dernier fixes him with a concerned look and gives his shoulder a shake.

“It was just a tease, oui?” 

Bucky nods and tries to force out a laugh but he can’t. He excuses himself and gets to his feet, marching out of the mess hall with his head bent and his shoulders squared. He isn’t looking where he is going, just pushing through the crowd and trying to get some air, to fix this damn head of his. He doesn’t get very far before he collides with someone big and hard. He stumbles backwards and his head jerks up, ready to bark at whoever had gotten in his way when he feels his heart drop into his stomach.

(Because this _must_ be a dream; a mirage; some cruel trick God has decided to punish him with.)

“Jesus.” He gasps. “ _Steve_?”

Steve’s handsome face breaks out into the kind of smile that always made Bucky’s heart sing and when he wraps his strong arms around him, Bucky cannot help but hold on for dear life, laughing incredulously at the new, unfamiliar, wonderful body wrapped around him.

“I…I thought I’d missed you! That you’d been shipped off without me.” Steve mutters into Bucky’s hair.

“I thought you were smaller.” Bucky chuckles, reluctantly pushing himself out of Steve’s embrace.

He’s acutely aware of the soldiers surrounding them and so he puts a good few inches between them, smiling down at his feet, rather than beaming up into Steve’s face.

“I missed you, Buck.”

(And, Lord, is this a test? Because Bucky knows he’s going to fail.)

He shivers at the honesty in Steve’s words and glances up at his friend, squinting in the sun.

“Missed you too, pal. Been awful lonely without my best-”

“Captain Rogers, Colonel Philips is waiting for you in his quarters.”

They both look up and glance over at a beautiful young woman with bright red lipstick and the sharpest eyes Bucky has ever seen. Bucky straightens up when he sees her and gives her his brightest smile but her attention is fixed on Steve who nods politely.

“I’ll follow you over in a sec, Agent Carter.”

Bucky whistles lowly as he watches her go and gives Steve an appraising look.

“She’s a beauty, Stevie. Are you-”

“Meet me in my tent later.” Steve interrupts urgently as he turns on his heel to follow Agent Carter. “I’ll wait up.”

And Bucky never could say no to those eyes and that’s how he finds himself pinned down in a squeaky army cot with Steve on top of him, kissing him like he could do this all night.

(Which, Bucky supposes, he could now after his super-soldier serum.)

“I was so scared, Buck, when your ma came over and told me that you hadn’t wrote her in nearly two months…” Steve whispers against his mouth, his lips pressing urgent kisses against his skin.

Bucky just nods, ignoring the shame and guilt pooling in his stomach as he wraps his legs around Steve’s hips and pulls him closer. Steve makes a deep humming sound as he moves his way down Bucky’s neck and sucks bruises against his skin. 

“I thought I’d never see you again.” Bucky breathes, helping Steve unbutton his shirt.

Steve stills for a moment and Bucky can see his throat working, pushing back whatever fears may be creeping up the back of his throat.

“I thought you were dead.” He finally admits as Bucky shucks himself out of his uniform.

Bucky just closes his eyes and drags Steve’s mouth back over his and kisses him as deeply as he can. He makes them forget where they are and what they’re doing and when Steve makes a strangled groaning sound, he rolls with it and lets his hand trail down his chest, towards the hardening bulge in the front of his dress trousers. Steve braces himself on either side of Bucky and bites down on his bottom lip hard when Bucky ghosts his fingers over his package.

“Are you sure you wanna…” Steve says softly.

(Because they never go this far because that’s crossing the line between Heaven and Hell but Bucky can’t bring himself to care enough, not when Steve is huge and alive and _hard_.)

He answers by slipping his hand down the front of his trousers and running his hand along his hot, impressive length. And amazingly, he doesn’t feel dirty. He doesn’t feel as if he’s going to burn in Hell and when Steve starts huffing hot, desperate little pants against his collarbone, Bucky feels as if this is all that is worth living for. Steve is close, Bucky can feel it and he is about to tell him to let go when there is the sound of someone stopping outside the tent.

“Captain Rogers?”

Steve freezes above him and clamps a hand over Bucky’s mouth before clearing his throat and replying.

“Yes sir?”

Bucky’s heart is throwing itself against his ribcage and when he sees the figure stoop low to unfasten the ties at the flap of the tent, he thinks he’s going to pass out. Steve flings himself off the bed and goes about dressing himself as quick as he can. Bucky does likewise but he’s not quick enough and when Colonel Philips steps inside they can both pinpoint the exact moment he puts two and two together. His eyes darken and his cheeks go pink but besides that he remains silent. Steve clears his throat and stands up straight, his shirt untucked and his pants unbuckled. Bucky stands beside him in only his trousers and vest, his hair unkempt and the skin around his neck spit-slick and bruised.

“Sergeant Barnes, I believe it’s past the 107th’s curfew. Would you care to explain what you’re doing in Captain Roger’s tent?” 

Bucky says nothing and stares straight ahead, hoping that the Colonel can’t see the way his knees are shaking.

“Talking tactics, sir. His infantry are undertaking a serious mission in three days’ time and he running over some strategies with me.” Steve answers smoothly.

(And Bucky hates that Steve has to lie on his behalf, hates that he’s turned his innocent friend into a deviant.)

Colonel Philips looks between them both for another few minutes before nodding.

“Alright then. Sergeant Barnes, you can return to your own quarters and if I catch you in here again past dark and as looking as you do now, best sniper in the army or not, I will have you shipped off over to some island in the middle of nowhere fighting with the goddamned Marines, do I make myself clear?”

Bucky springs to life and nods.

“Sir, yes sir!”

He takes his cue to leave and races out without a look back at the worried look on Steve’s face. He’s not even out of ear shot when he hears Colonel Philips say;

“Captain America or not, if I think that anyone even _suspects_ that you and Barnes are…are… _sodomizing_ each other, I will call in the Military Police and he will be shamed from here to Japan, do you understand me, soldier?”

It’s Steve’s response that makes him smile through the tears that sting his eyes;

“With all due respect sir, if you’re shaming Sergeant Barnes, you can shame me alongside him because I go wherever he goes, in case you haven’t noticed.”

 

.

 

Colonel Philips _does_ notice and that’s what he sends Bucky to a HYDRA base where he is lucky to escape with his life.

(Bucky doesn’t believe in coincidences and knows that Philips is using him as a way to discipline Steve.)

 

.

 

It is on a rare night off that Steve tells him about the ‘Howling Commandos’. And Bucky is a little bit drunk but he follows his mouth and listens to his words carefully, his heart breaking all the while as he imagines the dangers that Steve will face.

“You sure this is what you wanna do?” he asks as he nurses his whiskey, his shoulders hunched, Steve’s jacket covering his hands, the arms too long.

Steve nods and gives Bucky a small smile.

“If you’re by my side; yes.”

(He’s so naïve and innocent and _perfect_. He looks at Bucky like he’s his moon when really he’s the darkness that is trying to envelop him.)

“You know I am.” Bucky hears himself promise softly and they’re standing too close, their shoulders touching as they drink their drinks. 

The rest of the team are gathered around the pub, downing their free drinks hungrily, already speaking of women lewdly, one of them more desperate than the next to find a girl and bed her for the first time in months. Steve is half-listening to their conversation and laughing, the tips of his ears going pink as they speak of more explicit acts. Bucky watches him curiously and leans in closer, his lips almost touching the shell of Steve’s ear.

“You fuck anyone yet?”

The question doesn’t startle Steve. He just shrugs one shoulder and gives a small shake of his head.

“No.” He breathes. “Been waiting for my partner.”

And Bucky is forced to suppress a groan as he leans back into his stool. The air around them seems ten times hotter and when Steve locks eyes with him, Bucky can feel his cheeks darkening. He licks his lips and inhales deeply, shaking himself out of his almost feverish daze when Agent Carter appears by their side, a small smile on her lips and the kind of dress on that silences the entire room. Bucky manages to tear his gaze away from Steve long enough to rake his eyes along her perfect body and he wonders why he can’t want _that_ instead.

“Boys.” She says with a warm smile directed at Steve.

But he’s not looking at her, he’s looking at Bucky and Bucky thinks that they could actually be arrested for the look in his eyes alone. There’s a hunger there that reminds Bucky of the cold Brooklyn nights where they would kiss and touch furtively, their hormones egging them on eagerly. Peggy doesn’t seem disheartened and orders herself a drink, glancing at Steve hopefully every now and then in a way that makes the guilt in Bucky’s stomach gurgle disgustingly.

“Sergeant Barnes and I were just thinking of turning in. We’ve got a long day ahead of us tomorrow.” Steve says steadily and Bucky can’t speak; his mouth is dry and he feels dizzy with want.

Peggy doesn’t look put out. She simply smiles and bids them goodnight before walking over to the soon-to-be Howling Commandos and sits with them. Bucky doesn’t need to be told what to do. He stands and walks out of the pub with his head bent and hands shoved in his pockets. He can hear Steve excusing himself and following him. Bucky makes it look as though he is making his way to his own quarters when he doubles back stealthily and follows Steve up the stairs of the newly commandeered house of Steve’s quarters. They race up the old farmhouse stairs and stifle their laughter as Steve kicks the door shut behind them, his hands already on Bucky, touching and feeling as much as possible as he shoves him back against the old, lumpy bed in the corner. They fumble with each other’s clothing and it isn’t long until they’re both stripped down to their skivvies, exposed and hungry for more.

“I want you to fuck me like a dame.” Bucky declares breathlessly between kisses.

Steve pauses for a moment, his blue eyes wide and uncertain as he looks at Bucky.

“You..You sure?” he demands.

Bucky nods and exhales shakily.

“Yeah…been trying to convince myself for a while now that I don’t want it, but I do, Stevie, I really fuckin’ do.” 

Steve inhales deeply and crashes their mouths together, pushing Bucky back against the bed and climbing over him, straddling him. They kiss for an eternity, each of them trying to work up the courage to take things to the next level. The air around them is heavy and hot and when Steve finally pulls at the waistband of Bucky’s underpants, Bucky is achingly hard and oversensitive. He shimmies out of what’s left of his clothes and helps Steve do the same. 

“I…I don’t know how to do this.” Steve finally admits breathlessly.

Bucky nods and swallows.

(Of course he doesn’t, his sweet, little Steve. He doesn’t know how the depraved live.)

“You gotta..you gotta work me open first with your fingers.” Bucky explains with a small smirk. “And some slick, you got some of that?”

Steve half smiles and nods before leaning over and grabbing a bottle of oil. He drizzles it over his hand liberally and moves down the bed to position himself between Bucky’s legs.

“One finger first.” Bucky continues, spreading his legs further. “Nice and slow and…ah!”

His eyes widen at the first intrusion; one long, oily finger. His breathing stutters a little as Steve works it in and out before adding a second one and scissoring experimentally.

“Is that okay?” he asks nervously, his eyes bright and wide as he watches his fingers disappear inside Bucky.

Bucky nods and bites down on his bottom lip and there is really no coming back from this. It doesn’t take Steve long to find a rhythm that works and Bucky thinks he could come from just this. After what feels like a lifetime, Steve removes his fingers and slicks his hard and already leaking member. He positions himself at Bucky’s entrance and takes a few settling breaths before nodding to himself.

“You ready?” he whispers.

Bucky nods his assent and forces himself to breathe as he feels the fat head of Steve’s cock press against his hole. It hurts; it hurts so much that Bucky thinks it is the punishment for the sin they are about to commit. Steve takes it so achingly slow that Bucky’s entire body is shaking by the time he has fully entered him and Steve bends himself in half to press gentle kisses to Bucky’s temples and cheeks.

“If it’s too much-”

But Steve is cut off by a sharp knock on his door. Bucky squeezes his eyes shut and continues breathing through his teeth as Steve pulls out of him, much quicker than he entered. He keens a little at the pain and struggles to right himself, his head swimming with lust and want and _Steve_. Steve throws on his vest and trousers and is stepping into his boots when the door handle turns and in comes Agent Carter, a small, delighted smile on her face. This quickly disappears however when she takes in the scene before her. She takes a step back as her eyes widen and she gives Steve a hurt, confused look before shaking her head.

“Excuse me, Captain Rogers, I am so desperately sorry.” She mumbles, getting ready to turn around and leave but Steve grabs at her arm quickly and pulls her inside, closing the door behind them.

Her eyes are a little wild around the edges and she’s trying not to look at Bucky as much as he’s trying not to look at her. Steve inhales deeply and fixes Peggy with a pleading look.

“Peggy, I…we…please-”

(And it reminds Bucky so much of the time his mother found them that his heart sinks and his stomach flops.)

Peggy takes a deep, steadying breath before patting Steve on the chest fondly, her eyes still a little wider than usual but warm nonetheless.

“No, excuse _me_ , Captain Rogers, I shouldn’t have barged in past midnight when it was clear that both yourself and Sergeant Barnes were _sleeping_. It is, after all, much too cold for Sergeant Barnes to have to walk back to his own barracks. It was very considerate of you to offer him your sofa until he sleeps off his hangover. I only dropped by to wish you a goodnight.” She explains with a sad smile and something twists in his stomach as he tries to avoid the look that passes between them.

(Steve deserves a dream like Peggy. Not a horror like him.)

“Good night.” Steve says softly and when she is gone, he stares at the closed door for the longest time.

“She’s a good dame.” Bucky finally grunts.

Steve nods absently.

“The best.”

And he sounds wistful; longing even. Bucky wriggles about in the bed uncomfortably until he had turned on his back and is staring at the ceiling above them instead of at Steve’s sad face.

“If you…if you ever want a dame, Stevie, you know to settle down and have kids and things then…then you go for it. Don’t ever let me hold you back.” He tells the ceiling. 

The bed dips beside him as Steve climbs in but he doesn’t turn, just continues to stare at the cracked paint.

“What about you? You wanna get a dame and settle down?”

The question is slow; cautious.

(Almost as if he is daring to hope.)

Bucky shakes his head.

“No. No…I’m not…I’m not like that, Stevie. I’m like the men they beat down on the docks. I just…I can’t.”

(He’s broken, disgusting, sick and depraved.)

He blinks in surprise when Steve’s face appears before his and presses his lips against Bucky’s sweetly.

“Good.” He mutters against his mouth. “’Cause I’m just like you, Buck.”

 

.

 

They’re both sick, Bucky decides. They are both ungodly men and yet Steve is the most Godlike of _all_ men. In his presence, Bucky basks in his light and love and laughter and he can’t bring himself to believe the men who tell them that people like them are depraved.

(Bucky knows _he’s_ disgusting but Steve is perfect.)

So when Steve asks him to join him on that train he does. 

And when he sees Captain America’s shield lying on the ground, he has this beautiful moment where he believes that _he is worthy_.

He picks it up and decides that he’s going to protect Steve the way he used to when they were dumb kids fooling around under his blankets.

And he raises his gun and thinks of the promises Steve whispered in his ear before they jumped, how they were gonna get a hotel room and spend the night together, properly and uninterrupted, how Peggy had even managed to organize that they get to spend the next day together, safe and tucked up in blankets.

He doesn’t hear Steve telling him to move and when he’s blasted out the hole in the train, he honestly believes that it is God who has decided to save him when he manages to grasp onto the railings.

“Bucky, Bucky, gimme your hand!” Steve urges, desperate and scared and Bucky has never seen that wild look in his eyes before and so he reaches out and falls.

 

.

 

He falls from grace like he always knew he would; dirty, depraved and unfixable.

 

.

 

When he opens his eyes next, however and feels the power surge through his left arm, he feels his heart soar and pulse quicken because this, _this is redemption_.

That is, until, he feels the pain and then he realizes with startling clarity that this is Hell and he is paying for his sins, just like the men down the docks always told him he would.


	2. Chapter 2

He is a ghost. 

He slips through the world unnoticed, unrecognised, unacknowledged. 

(Unwanted.)

They tell him he’s their _saviour_ , that he is single-handedly changing the face of history but he can’t be a saviour if he is damned. 

(Cursed and forgotten, destined to spend his life forever in the Hell of his own blank mind).

He kills who they tell him to. He does so without hesitation. He finds his target and he shoots.

It’s quick, painless and _elegant_. He never misses.

(Sometimes he considers turning the gun on himself).

He doesn’t let himself get attached, doesn’t allow any room for mistakes. The deaths never come back to haunt him.

(Except the seven year-old girl in Chechenia. She visits him regularly.)

Master thinks that he is perfect; the greatest asset. 

His handlers think he is dangerous; the world’s most terrifying weapon.

But this blonde-haired man, staring at him with the widest blue eyes thinks he is a person with a name; _Bucky_.

 

.

 

The man on the bridge is fast and strong and a match for the Winter Soldier.

The man on the bridge is his mission but the man on the bridge called him ‘Bucky.’

And ‘Bucky’ taste familiar in his mouth. His tongue forms the shape of the name effortlessly and it _feels_ like a memory.

(The Soldier doesn’t exactly know what a memory feels like but he’s researched it before, when they left him alone with a computer in Singapore.)

The Soldier cannot explain why but there is another name slowly emerging from the foggy depths of his frozen mind and when he rolls the name around his tongue it _warms_ him. It warms him in a way that very suddenly reminds him of a dead summer’s night and two young bodies pressed against one another beneath damp sheets.

And he doesn’t know _how_ he remembers anything but he does so he turns to his Master and says;

“That man…on the bridge, who was he?”

(Because there’s a name on the tip of his tongue, a name he forces himself to swallow.)

But they won’t tell him and the Soldier has always known when Master is lying. 

 

.

 

The Soldier does not _fail_ missions. He is feared for a reason. He has a perfect track record and is his Master’s pride and joy. He doesn’t like to disappoint his Master, not when the Master is the one with the key to the Cold.

(And he can’t go back there, not when the man on the bridge knows his name.)

 

 

.

 

_“Then finish it…’cause I’m with you ‘til the end of the line.”_

And oh, _God_ , if the Soldier didn’t know what a memory felt like before; he certainly does now. His chest tightens and he reels backwards as though struck. The man on the bridges’ body feels so familiar beneath his and when he looks down at that bloody, bruised face there is a sickly feeling that swirls through his stomach that the Soldier doesn’t know how to describe.

(He knows twenty-seven languages but now he is speechless.)

The sickness in his stomach pushes upwards and surges through him in a fit of rage and fear. It pulses through him and in one, uncontrolled spasm; the Soldier throws the blonde haired man from the hellicarrier. 

Words, smells, pictures, sounds swirl through his mind in a painful combination and when he manages to get to his knees, he has already made his decision. He throws himself from the aircraft, his eyes focussed and trained on the limp body of the man.

(Of _Steve_.)

He slices through the water with purpose and there is a moment where he feels _cleansed_. He reaches out for Steve and grabs a hold of his straps, kicking upwards with all his strength towards the surface. Beneath the dark, murky waters, his mind is calm. The Soldier is at peace and for a brief moment, he contemplates letting go and waiting for the water to take them both.

(But _Steve_.)

When his head breaks through the surface of the water, the gentle sun warms his cheeks and the Soldier pulls Steve against his chest and just _floats_. His chest rises and falls beneath the Soldiers hand and he frowns as his fingers hover over the space where his heart would be. There is something there, he decides, something telling him that Steve is special. He swims to the shore and drags Steve’s lifeless body out of the water. A part of him wants to stay but he knows Natalia Romanova and he has researched how she operates. She cannot be far from where they are now and the Soldier cannot risk being seen, not yet, not until he sees his handlers and reports his mission status.

(Master will put him back in the Cold; will hurt him because he failed.)

The Soldier idly wonders for a moment if Steve and his birdman could protect him from the Cold but quickly shakes the thought away.

He knows what they would do if they got their hands on Steve and the Soldier can’t let that happen.

 

.

 

It has been 24 hours and the Soldier still cannot find his handlers. He has gone to Master’s house but it was cordoned off, police cars surrounding the building. It didn’t take the Soldier long to realize that the Master is dead.

(And a tiny part of him rejoices but the rest of him is scared stiff.)

 

.

 

 

26 hours later he has intel that informs him of the invasion of his base just outside Washington D.C. 

All of his handlers are dead.

 

.

 

28 hours pass and he has been to the Smithsonian, has seen a man who wears his face but not his eyes. 

James Buchanan Barnes has eyes that could light up a room and he keeps them firmly fixed on Steve Rogers.

(The Soldier has dead eyes that could chill a man to the bone.)

 

.

 

36 hours later and he is crouched in the corner of a hospital room, his eyes firmly fixed on the sleeping figure of Steve Rogers. The room is dark and airless and he can feel sweat beginning to bead and gather across his forehead. Steve sleeps peacefully, his wounded face already almost perfectly healed. His breathing is soft and steady as the Soldier stands and makes his way across the room, one eye on the door at all times. There are two agents placed outside but the Soldier is more concerned about Natalia who has entered and left four times already.

He doesn’t know why he is here. He just knows that he has nowhere else to go and there is nobody left alive who knows him. He comes forward to the foot of the bed and clears his throat softly. Steve’s eyes flicker slowly before shooting open suddenly and staring at the Soldier, wide and half-afraid. His hands instinctively reach for the nurse’s buzzer but the Soldier has already disengaged that. 

“Bucky?” He finally croaks, sitting up straighter in the bed.

He’s wincing as he does so but he straightens himself up none the less. Even in the dark Steve has the bluest eyes that the Soldier has ever seen and he just can’t shake the feeling that they have been here before. The Soldier feels as if he has spent half his life standing at the end of a bed with Steve wrapped up inside it.

“Your name is Steve.” The Soldier says softly.

Steve nods once, twice, three times and his eyes shine brighter than ever. 

(Tears. There are tears in his eyes.)

And the Soldier can’t do this now. His own head is spinning and his chest is heaving so he races for the window, desperately ignoring the way Steve calls out after him.

(There is a voice in his head telling him to stay away; that Steve is good and he is bad.)

 

.

 

Two weeks of observation tell him that Steve Rogers is a man with powerful friends. He also spends a lot of his time on the phone, his fingers trailing along unknown routes on maps the Soldier can’t read from outside.

The day before Rogers is discharged from the hospital, the Soldier bugs his apartment in the hope of getting some information on the future of HYDRA. He is barely out the window before Natalia steps inside and does a painstaking sweep that uproots all of his spyware. He knows she knows they’re his. The day after, the Soldier perches himself on the edge of an opposing balcony and watches; waiting for his friends to leave. The birdman catches a glimpse of him after a few hours and the Soldier is forced to move. 

(The Soldier can’t shake the image of Rogers’ hopeful face when he too had turned his head in his direction.)

A week later and the Soldier is able to conclude that Natalia and Rogers are sleeping together.

(It makes his chest tighten in an unfamiliar way when he witnesses them kissing for the first time.)

Two weeks and a day on and the Soldier is still stranded and alone. His nights are filled with terrors, of half-remembered memories and dangerous dreams. His sleep is fitful and unfulfilling. He finds himself almost longing for the deep, undisturbed sleep of the Cold.

(The Cold had been dark; it hadn’t been filled with dreams of two men rocking against each other in deserted alleyways, breathing hot secrets into each other’s mouths.)

 

.

 

It is two weeks and three days later when the Soldier gets his opportunity. Natalia is on the other side of the city with birdman. The Soldier had followed them as far as some unremarkable building before doubling back as quick as he could in a desperate bid to catch Rogers on his own. He scales the building deftly and slips inside the bathroom window silently. He can hear Rogers pacing about in the hallway, arguing with someone on the phone.

“…I don’t _care_ how dangerous it is, Tony, I just need…No. _No_. That’s not fair and you…yeah? Well, imagine for a moment that it was Pepper and…that’s not what I meant and you know it’s not! You know, what, you can…”

The voice trails away as he makes his way through the apartment and the Soldier creeps out of the bathroom and down the hallway towards the living room. He can make out the sounds of a kettle being switched on and water beginning to boil. He slides along the wall and tries to be as quiet as he can but he can tell the moment Rogers notices his presence. 

(And his heart _races_ when he comes face to face with those eyes again.)

For the longest time there is nothing but silence and then;

“Natasha and Sam won’t be gone long. If you need something, Buck, you better tell me now.”

The Soldier freezes and waits for a moment before stepping out of the shadows. He looks the other man in the eye as he struggles to find his voice.

(He hasn’t used it in so long; hasn’t had anyone to talk to.)

“Hydra.” He croaks and Steve nods.

“We’re working on it.”

“Who’s we?”

The other man’s face falls and he shakes his head slowly.

“I can’t tell you that, Bucky.”

“James Buchanan Barnes.” The Soldier suddenly says. “That’s _my_ name.”

Steve’s eyes are wide as he nods and the Soldier thinks he can see his bottom lip trembling. The kettle has come to the boil long ago and a half-made sandwich is on the counter. The ticking of the clock seems impossibly loud and the Soldier thinks he can hear Steve’s heart beating.

“You always asked me to call you ‘Bucky’. You hated being called James.” Steve whispers.

(And Jimmy. He hated being called ‘Jimmy’. That’s what his mother had called him.)

The Soldier falls silent. His tongue feels swollen.

“If you want a shower, the apartment will be empty from six to eight tonight. I’ll leave the bathroom window open.”

 

.

 

The Soldier returns at half six and true to his word, the apartment is empty. There is also a sticky note on the mirror. It reads;

_There’s a base in Budapest and two in Moscow._

(And the Soldier closes his eyes and hangs his head because he _knows_ that handwriting from letters he used to keep pressed in his left breast pocket.)

 

.

 

Budapest is a dead end. Steve and his friends have gotten there before him and left without a trace. The Soldier beats them to Moscow however and destroys two Hydra bases with a vengeance he didn’t know was in him.

(Because they showed him the Cold; tried to make him go back.)

But this leaves him lost, leaves him wondering where he can go. He has vague memories of a summer spent in Moscow and this leads him to a café nestled away from the main streets. He slips into a plastic chair and orders himself a coffee. The wizened old woman serving him must recognise him because she fixes him with a stern look before hobbling inside and getting his order. The streets are empty and there is a bitter autumn wind whipping around him and cutting his cheeks painfully. When the woman reappears at the door, she beckons with him the crook of her finger. The Soldier frowns but he stands regardless, intrigued. He follows her inside the dark café and when he does, she locks the door behind her. She places a basin of hot water and a cloth before him and tells him to remove his clothes. There is a much younger woman watching them from a hallway door, her face half-hidden in the shadows and when he begins to peel off his stained battle gear, she creeps forward and gathers them in her arms. The Soldier moves to pick up the cloth but the old woman shushes him and reaches for it herself. She cleans him gently, her old, papery hands ghosting along the planes of his back softly.

“You’re filthy.” She chides.

The Soldier remains silent.

“They are all dead, you know. Gone. I thought they would have taken you with them.”

The Soldier glances at her before shrugging.

(He’s glad they didn’t take him. He doesn’t ever want to go back.)

Once he is clean, she pushes a huge plate of food towards him. The Soldier eats it with gusto, his rumbling stomach silenced for the first time in months. After he has finished, the younger woman comes back with his fresh clothes and places them at his feet. The Soldier dresses and ensures that none of his knives have been taken. He stands to leave but the old woman blocks his path, a soft look in her eyes.

“I’m sorry but you cannot return here.” She says sadly and the Soldier briefly remembers them having this conversation on a sunnier day, when the café was bustling with tourists. “My son…he doesn’t want you here.”

The Soldier frowns as he tries to place her son but he only draws up a blank. Nonetheless, he nods and thanks the woman. She grasps his hands between hers and places a gentle kiss to the knuckles.

“Stay safe.” She whispers and the Soldier wants to know what he has done to deserve her kindness and concern.

“Who am I?” he breathes, holding onto her hands tighter.

The old woman only winces and shakes her head.

“I don’t…I don’t know who you were before this but you’ve been coming here for sixty years and have never aged a day.”

(He remembers. He remembers children climbing across his lap and a beautiful dark-haired woman stitching the holes in his uniform.)

“I think… My name is James Buchanan Barnes.” He shares with her quietly.

The old woman smiles and wraps her arms around him, pulling him in for a frail hug.

“You called yourself ‘Bucky’ one summer but when you came back you’d forgotten.”

(There are tears in his eyes and his stomach is sick.)

He bows his head and nods before slipping past her and making his way back out onto the street. 

(And he runs and runs and runs until his stomach is turning and his chest is heaving and he _remembers_.)

 

.

 

The Soldier sits in Steve’s apartment for three days. He doesn’t move an inch. He forces himself to remain in his seat until the day he hears the lock turn in the door and the low murmur of Steve’s laughter. The door opens slowly and they freeze the moment they see him. The birdman is behind Steve, and Natalia is by his side, her weapons already drawn. Steve drops the bag in his hands and steps forward slowly, an uncertain expression on his face.

“I am Bucky.” The Soldier says clearly, making sure to pronounce the name slow and deliberate like he had practiced. “And you are Steven Rogers but I call you Steve.”

The smile that breaks across Steve’s face makes something squeeze around the Soldier- _Bucky’s_ \- heart. 

“Buck, that’s- that’s right-”

“He could have heard that anywhere.” Natalia cuts across swiftly, stepping forward and training her gun right on his head. “Why are you here?”

And Bucky knows that he should move, that he should raise his own weapons but something tells him not to. He remains seated and shoots Natalia a dark look.

“You’ve grown up.” He comments. “I remember when your hair was much longer.”

Her face pales slightly but that is the only indication that she has heard him. Steve looks between them uncertainly and birdman gives him a strange look but remains silent besides that. 

(And Bucky feels a little overwhelmed; he hadn’t counted on them all returning home together.)

“I should go.” He decides, rising from his chair slowly.

“ _No_!” Steve exclaims, jumping forward desperately. “Please, don’t go, Bucky.”

And he wrinkles his nose because there is a memory surfacing of a smaller Steve clutching his wrist and begging him not to leave, to stay and there is a pressure in his chest and his metal hand raises itself shakily as a flood of emotions rush through him. He clamps the hand over his chest and tries to breathe through the regret and anger and _fear_.

(He’s terrified of these memories that haunt him, terrified of what he will remember.)

He goes for the window but the latch is locked and when he spins around they have him cornered. Birdman has his own weapons pointed at him now and Bucky curses under his breath as he draws out his guns. Natalia makes a pleased sound when he raises them and Steve shouts at them all to _lower your goddamn weapons_. And Bucky doesn’t want to but the Soldier’s survival instincts kick in and he fires the first shot. 

“ _Sam_!” Steve yells as birdman falls and Bucky ducks before Natalia has the chance to react. 

He shoots again, at the window this time and jumps without a second thought. He’s desperate to escape and the Soldier’s mind is weighed down with the memories of James Buchanan Barnes and he decides that that’s the reason Natalia gets her shot and shoots him in the back. 

(And it’s a strange feeling; falling. He feels like he’s done this before.)

The air has been knocked out of him and the warmth dripping down his back feels like he is being bathed. He tries to reach for the ledge of the balconies flying past him but his arms are heavy and his vision is darkening, dimming around the sides.

(And Bucky doesn’t _want_ to die. Not without his redemption.)

 

.

 

His last thoughts are of God and he wonders how much he can _truly_ forgive.

 

.

 

_It’s a warm summers day. The sky is the brightest blue and cloudless. Bucky is laughing. He’s leaning against the bonnet of a jeep, his hip knocking against Steve’s every time he moves and Steve is talking to the men surrounding them and Bucky can’t stop staring at the way his lips move and when he turns his attention on Bucky, there is a smile tugging at his lips and he says; ‘Bucky?’-_

_‘Bucky?’ The blonde haired man on the bridge exclaims and his eyes are wider than anything he has ever seen. The Soldier freezes because that name makes something wash over him, like a bucket of cold water. He turns around slowly, trying to understand why that name makes a pressure build in his chest and his mind ache with a low, dull throb. ‘Who-’_.

 _‘Who wouldn’t want a guy like you, Stevie? You’re a catch.’ They’re in a cold apartment, sharing a blanket on an old, lumpy mattress. Steve is pressed against his, his tiny body shivering slightly from the cold. He makes a face at Bucky and gives him a slow smile. ‘I think you’re the only fool who’d want a guy like me, jerk-’_.

 _‘Jerk me off, c’mon, please, I want it.’ Bucky pants into his ear. Steve’s body is strong and big now and when he pins Bucky against the wall, the smaller man moans aloud. They’re being stupid, they’re risking so much just for the chance to touch each other and when Steve slips his hands down the front of Bucky’s trousers he thinks he’s going to explode right there and then. He cuts off a loud groan as Steve takes him in hand the blonde haired man grins down at him and presses a breathless kiss against his mouth. ‘This is so dirty-’_.

_‘Dirty, I am so dirty, Lord and I only wish for you to cleanse me. Cleanse me, O Lord, and save me from myself. I’m begging You, I need You to help me quit this guy, because between You and me? I’m gonna end up going to Hell for this guy.’_

 

.

 

“I used to love you.” 

(Steve’s face falls.)

“You don’t anymore?”

(Bucky makes a face.)

“I don’t know.”

 

.

 

(Is he allowed, Lord? Is he allowed love the man who haunts his dreams and plagues his memories?)

 

.

 

Sam calls it ‘recovery’. 

Bucky calls it ‘torture’.

Steve tells him it’s necessary and Natalia agrees with him.

(As usual.)

But he does it. He goes to the therapist and he talks about his feelings and then he comes home and tells them that he is feeling much better.

(He’s not though. He feels as if he is drowning but they all think he is waving.)

 

.

 

He goes to Church. Sam takes him. Steve offers to but Bucky says no. 

(He can’t sit beside his biggest sin, his most terrible temptation in the house of God.)

Sam understands. 

“You know, He ain’t as judgemental as He was in your day.” He tells him one afternoon as they walk home from Sunday mass. “He’s loosened up a bit.”

Bucky buries his hands deeper in his pockets and makes a strange grunting sound.

“In fact, in some states, two men or two women can get married. He doesn’t mind.” Sam continues. “Although, if you’re askin’ me, I don’t think He ever minded. I think some assholes just decided to say that God was against it without ever really consulting Him, you know?”

(Bucky says nothing and tries to ignore the hopeful fluttering of his heart.)

 

.

 

“We’ve all done things we’re not proud of.” Natalia tells him. 

Bucky takes a steady sip of his beer and shrugs.

(He’s done so much more.)

She runs a hand through his unkempt hair and tugs on the ends playfully.

“If loving a man is your biggest sin, James, then-”

“It’s not. It’s just one of many.”

(Too many for any God to ever forgive.)

 

.

 

“I’m afraid, Lord. I’m afraid of being alone with him. I don’t know if I have any fight left in me. I don’t know if I can push him away anymore. I need You to guide me. I need You to tell me that everything is going to be okay.”

 

.

 

It happens on a Friday. 

He is sitting in the Avengers Tower and Tony Stark approaches him. Bucky likes Tony. He’s blunt and to the point and Bucky needs more people like him in his life, someone who isn’t going to tip-toe around him and treat him like he’s wrapped in cotton wool. 

(“Now you get what is was like for me?” Steve would joke. “You constantly jumping to my defence to protect my honour.”)

“S’up Robocop?” he sighs as he folds himself into the sofa. 

Bucky shrugs. Tony mirrors this and hands him an envelope.

“Found this. Thought you might wanna give it a read.” He says softly.

The envelope is old and stained and the handwriting is familiar. He gives Tony a searching look but the older man just shrugs.

“It might help.” 

 

.

 

 _Steve_ ,

 _I received your letter today. Thank you. Thank you for letting me know that you were with him when he fell. It means a lot to know that he didn’t die alone._  
 _It’s hard for me to put into words how I’m feeling right now. I’m shocked, of course, but more than that, I am so horribly ashamed of myself. For the way I treated you both, I must apologise. I never told him I loved him before he left, can you imagine that? I never got the chance to swallow my own pride and tell him how proud I was of him, so let me tell you. Jimmy was the most beautiful boy. He was kind and warm and loyal to a fault. He never let me down and he always stuck by my side. I’m sure you can relate. He was a wonderful son and a fiercely protective brother. I haven’t told Becca yet. I don’t know how. You’re mother told me once that she wished you had been born a girl sometimes because then our two boys could have married. At the time I had thought it a strange comment to make but now I understand that Sarah saw and accepted your love whereas I had been blind and denied it._  
 _Steve, I am so sorry for the loss you must be mourning as well. You loved him just as much as I did and I know that my son loved you more than anything. You were his anchor and gave him purpose in life. Please come home safely. We all miss you._.

_Love always,_

_Winnie_

 

.

 

Bucky cries for hours that night.

 

.

 

On the Sunday, Bucky kisses Steve and spends the night in his room.

(He feels no guilt.)

The next morning, they kiss again and again and Bucky thinks that this is his redemption; that God is giving him a second chance to do things right. 

(To love Steve properly.)

 

.

 

“What about Natalia?” Bucky whispers against Steve’s bare chest.

Steve makes a soft huffing sound and pulls Bucky closer.

“That was never…we weren’t… we just _kissed_ sometimes. You’re the only person I’ve ever been with.”

(Steve is pure, Steve is good, Steve is his saviour.)

“Good.” Bucky murmurs, unable to keep the smile from his voice.

And Steve pulls him up and they kiss until neither of them feel as if they can breathe and for the first time in a long, long time, it doesn’t feel like such a struggle for Bucky to keep his head above water.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ugh. I'm kind of disappointed with this because it turned out a lot darker than i anticipated but lemme know

**Author's Note:**

> okay so, let me know what you think! Kudos and comments are very much appreciated and i feel like they're be an opportunity for a sequel here? maybe?
> 
> ***this is now a two shot because the overwhelming response!!!


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